Thousands of people threw their hands in the air and screamed when a British MC told them to ‘make some noise for Sub Focus.’
A blond DJ in his mid-thirties took to a raised platform at the centre of a huge stage, and started playing a thumping drum and bass track that sent the crowd wild. They started dancing to 180 beats per minute, and the MC whipped up their energy with a freestyle rap over the tune. Huge LED screens displayed a rapidly changing set of psychedelic patterns and a pulsating laser show shot colours over the vast auditorium.
‘They won’t be on the dance floor. Too hard to do business,’ Pearce said. ‘Check the access corridors.’
He watched the image on screen change as the tiny drone banked left and flew towards an open doorway. He and Leila had parked a block from the venue and had deployed a tiny bumble bee drone to infiltrate the arena.
The device was the type of equipment he expected to see at Six. It had crawled along the computer console in the back of the van like a real insect before Leila had piloted it into the air and sent it through the van’s open windows.
Rather than the evacuated crowd they’d hoped to see following their warning to the police, the drone had showed them almost-empty streets around the arena. A handful of cops and security guards milled around First Avenue, as the last few latecomers had hurried to join the line of stragglers snaking into the venue. Leila’s call to the police had been futile.
‘Looks like the cops didn’t take you seriously,’ Pearce had observed. ‘Or they’ve got others on their payroll.’
Leila had piloted the drone into the building and flown it into the huge, vaulted space where thousands danced to the pounding beat.
Now, the tiny craft swept along the south access corridor, which ran parallel to the bottom end of the dance floor and was home to food and drink concessions and the toilets. With most dancing, the corridor was quiet, but there were still a few dozen people in every section, chatting, drinking, and milling around. Pearce saw a couple of guys surreptitiously slip pills into their mouths before heading into the arena.
‘There.’ Leila indicated a group of men coming towards the drone.
Pearce recognized Ziad, Elroy and Narong Angsakul, but the other two men were unfamiliar. Narong, Ziad and one of the others, a large man with the face of a fighter, had messenger bags slung over their shoulders, and Pearce had no doubt about the poison they contained.
‘Stay on them,’ he said. ‘I’m going in.’
‘Test the new eyes before you go,’ Leila suggested.
Pearce nodded and produced the tiny contact lens case she’d given him after they’d parked. He opened it and prodded one of the lenses until it stuck to his fingertip. He pressed it into his eye and one of the screens in the back of the van sprang to life and displayed what Pearce was seeing. It was unnerving to watch the screen showing him watching the screen, so he looked away from the infinity pattern and focused on Leila.
‘Looking good. You’ll need an earpiece too,’ Leila said, handing him a tiny device which he slipped inside his ear.
He opened the side door and jumped into the street. The rain might have stopped, but the sky was still dark with thick cloud, and a fresh wind hinted the storm might not be over.
‘Be careful, Scott,’ Leila said.
He nodded. Unlike the men he was going to face, he didn’t have the time or connections to circumvent building security, and was going in unarmed.
‘Always,’ he assured Leila, before sliding the door shut.